I see you, you’re walking across the campus
cruel professor, studying romances
how am I supposed to pretend
I never want to see you again

Sometimes, he thinks, it would be easier for him to let her go if she wasn’t always around. Out of sight, out of mind, right? At least, he thinks that’s the saying. But she’s not out of sight. It’s like someone up there is trying to tell him something, because he has at least four classes with her now, not including Glee. It’s more than the two they shared last year when they were dating. He remembers wishing they could have had more together, and now that he’s gotten his wish, he thinks that maybe God has a funny sense of humor. She was just always there, right when he thought that maybe he was over her, that when he thought of her he wouldn’t smile, that when he saw her his heart wouldn’t pick up its pace, but she would appear and he would be proven wrong as his heartbeat raced and the ends of his lips turned up.

She seems happy. She’s dating Sam now, the new kid, and they seem happy together. At least, she’s smiling when she’s with Sam, most of the time. But he notices that she never leans into Sam in Glee like she used to lean into him, and she never teaches Sam stuff in their math class, like she used to teach him, and he cherishes that, even if it is selfish and silly. But still, Sam has her, and he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should tell her. She seems happy with Sam, and although it isn’t the same, he’s willing to let her be happy.

But something in the back of his mind keeps bothering him, pushing him, making him think of what would happen if they did start talking again. He knows he will have to make the first move, the first reach out, the first hello, because he was the one who pushed her away. He’s willing to do that – he thinks. It scares him, but he knows – he hopes – that it will be worth it. Sometimes his mind drifts off during class, to images of them together again, of her walking up and lacing their fingers together, of him coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, of them happy and relaxed and in love again.

He knows he can’t pretend anymore. He has to talk to her, at least, if not tell her. Just a talk. They used to talk all the time, until the early hours and she would whisper that she loved him before hanging up, and he would stay up and think about her. It’s not going to be the same, he knows that, but he has to try and start, right? Today, he decides, looking over at her. She’s alone, because Sam was absent. Today is as good a day as ever, he thinks. The bell rings and everyone stands up. He waits, taking his time, because he knows that she always takes awhile to gather her things. He waits until she leaves first, and then he follows her out into the hallway, calling out her name.

“Quinn!” He says, loud enough for her to hear. She turns around, raising her eyebrows slightly in a question.

“Hi, Finn.” She says, stopping and looking at him.

“I…uh,” I think about you all the time. “I was wondering if,” I still want to be with you. “If maybe you wanted to, uh,” I’m still in love with you. “Get something to eat today? And maybe you could help me with that stuff we’re doing in math? I’m not sure I get it.” He waits, his breath caught in his throat, his heart frozen and his hands shaking in his pockets as he watches her face, waiting for her answer. She blinks, once, twice, and the corners of her lips turn up slightly. It’s only a little smile, but it’s good enough for him.

“Sure. We can go after Glee today.” He grins slightly.

“Sounds good.”

“Great. I’ll see you later, Finn.” She smiles a bit wider and turns, walking down the hall. His grin grows. It wasn’t I love you, or even I missed you, but it was a start. He turned, walking down the hallway, smiling. It was good enough for him.